


Endless; or, The Great Fizzgig Bowl

by Team_Two_Cats



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Racing, Resistance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24612784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Two_Cats/pseuds/Team_Two_Cats
Summary: Things in the Endless Forest are changing, but for the fizzgigs it's still a time for celebration. And for Mat, the Great Fizzgig Bowl is a chance to shine. They're determined to win this year, but a dangerous intrusion into the forest changes everything, and shows Mat that the relative peace they've enjoyed all their life is nowhere near endless.
Kudos: 2





	Endless; or, The Great Fizzgig Bowl

Many things about the Endless Forest lived up to its name. Just, well, not its size. Sure, it was _large_. But were Thra one forest, even then among the countless jeweled planets revolving the countless glimmering stars, it would still only be a grain of sand in the boot of the heavens. Still, discounting that it was not, in fact, endless in its expanse, it _was_ endless in other ways. In its seasons, for instance. In the cycle of life that dictated the growth of the trees and vines and sweet sweet grasses. And in the revelries of the podlings, their songs carried high over the music of beating drums.

And of course, it was endless in the mischief of the fizzgigs, who, as the gentle podlings swayed and drank and celebrated their good fortune and endless bounty of the forest under the glittering stars above, were engaged in a very different kind of activity.

"Let's get this fucking started!" Drog yelled, mouth opening nearly wide enough to eat a moon.

Around them, the crowd erupts in cheers, tiny paws pounding the ground, growls and howls and joyous barks echoing among the crowding trees.

"Betting is open. Only berries, grubs, or shiny things are accepted, so leave your strange colored leaves and interesting smelling sticks at home. We've got a full docket tonight, with twelve taking on the Great Bowl! Don't miss your chance to return home larger and rounder than ever!"

The crowds pressed close, paws pulling acceptable bets from within their fur. Shepherds and vine watchers, wild rollers and branch sitters all melded into one mass, their differences put aside for this one night. For the Great Bowl.

From their spot high on the ceremonial Launching Tree, Mat watched with a mix of awe and fear, hope and dread.

"Don't tell me you're nervous," Dak said. The competitors are too close to afford any real privacy, but most have withdrawn themselves to their own artificial spaces, lost in their thoughts and strategies. Most look out at the course, at this year's Bowling Alley. Only Mat is pointed opposite, back at the crowds of onlookers shoving their hoarded treasures forward in the hopes of ending the night on a mound of winnings.

"I hear strange rumblings from beyond the forest," Mat said. "Stories that the Alliance of the Crystal is fracturing."

"Stories!" Dak tipped their head open and erupted in shaking laughter. "You mustn't listen to everything you hear from those gelfling hunters. Are the podlings worried? Are the trees? The vines? We are part of no Alliance of the Crystal, Mat. That's something for gelflings and skeksis. Their world is one of wars and battles, change and strife. We are creatures of the Endless Forest. Nothing changes here."

Mat rumbled, something between a whimper and a growl. "Everything changes."

Dak burps and turns back to the course. "Whatever you say. I think we have enough to worry about as is. Speaking of..."

They trailed off as two fizzgigs pulled a plank of glow moss rolled up to them. The competitors, drawn out of their individual thoughts, congregated at the plank, and Mat did their best to banish the intrusive worries. Dak was probably right. The forest never changed, and despite the wars that raged beyond its borders, to the creatures here it made no more difference than if a storm were raging over a distant desert. Stars winked out in the night, but who counted them here, where the canopy stole all view of the sky?

Mat tried to focus, and when the plank was placed before them they opened wide their mouth and crunched down on the heady meal. Almost immediately they could feel it working, and saw the effects mirrored around them. Each of the other eleven fizzgigs began to glow. The easier for the spectators in the trees along the Alley to see them, the easier for the Bowlers to see through the gloom of the forest, even while rolling.

Below, Drog continued to stoke the crowd, giving brief descriptions of each of the Bowlers. Heath, the nebrie herder. Toph, who lived underground, risking the strange and dangerous creatures there. Dak, the vine watcher, carefree and social. Mat, the recluse, the wild one, who went as far as the border of the forest and, though Drog didn't say so, dreamed of what was beyond its borders. And on, and on. The Bowlers lined up where the large platform of the Launching Tree curved down, its trunk acting as the accelerator for the Great Bowl. From there the Alley would twist and turn, through obstacle and danger, until it wound back to the finish line at the base of the Launching Tree, where the winner would be hailed as a hero and the losers would all sulk and drown their sorrows in thin ale discreetly lifted from the podling stores.

Mat looked at the winding course, then over at the rest of the Bowlers. A part of them questioned why they were there. Why compete? All the doubts and fears bubbled up, and yet they barked them down. They were there because they were an excellent Bowler. Because they had been too long away from the company their people. And because, regardless of the dangers lurking all around them, maybe if they could participate in this celebration, they could believe like all the others that the forest was truly endless.

Everything stilled. The crowd below, boisterous a moment before, quieted. The Bowlers all set their sights on the Alley, on their first moves. They waited for the word, for the call from Drog who, after what seemed an age, howled the opening with all their voice.

"FUCKING GO!"

And they went. Mat tucked and rolled, their body a ball of fur and speed as they descended with the eleven other Bowlers. Wind rushed through their fur, faster, faster, so that their whole body shook with speed. Down. And down. And then up as the tree met the forest floor, Mat moving wide to avoid the thickest of the press as the twelve moved as one into the narrower confines of the Alley.

Round bodies jumped over mounds of earth, shot onto narrow logs, zipped over puddles and pools. With the momentum of the Launching Tree, the competitors bumped and growled their way forward. There was no time to plan now, time only to react to the changes of the course. Mat slowed a breath, allowing three Bowlers ahead of them to reach a thin branch over a stinking pool at once. They fought for placement, but it was too thin, and the ones on the outer edge teetered. Mat chuckled to themselves, then rushed forward, rolling hard, pushing through all three, sending them all down into the mud and fetid water. They cleared the branch to the curses from the fallen Bowlers.

They were hardly in first, though. Ahead, four Bowlers jockeyed for position. Behind, another two. Which meant five already were out of the Bowl. Not that it was unusual for even three quarters to fall somewhere on the way. The rules, never exactly codified, were that few things were grounds for disqualification. Leaving the Alley was the biggest one. Touching the ground with more than one paw was the other. While in ball form, fizzgigs propelled themselves with well timed kicks, but only ever with one foot at once. The only time that wasn't true was for pushing off from a stop, so the unspoken final rule was "never stop."

Not that anyone could afford to and still win. One of the forward Bowlers was nudged up and over a bank, sending them barking into the brush, as they passed the halfway point. Mat decided to change their approach, and increased their speeding coming into a slow incline. The three in front, more tired from the constant struggle for the lead, slowed, and with a burst of speed Mat overtook them. Only to find that one of the Bowlers behind them had had a similar idea.

Dak crashed into Mat's side, nearly sending them both sprawling, but they kept their form, and both drew even as they came to the end of the incline and into the final winding slope toward the finish.

Mat shouldered into the roll, determined to see this through, even as Dak seemed to resolve the same, neither able to pass the other as they sped, fur to fur, under the watching branches of the forest. Everything else melted away. The forest blurred, the ground under them just a stage for their struggle. The noise of cheers and the creatures of the—but a noise pierced through Mat's focus. A distant cry. Of pain. Of terror. Not fizzgig but...

Mat cursed and veered away from Dak, away from the course. They crested the lip of the Alley and bounded into the thicket of the wood. A part of them held a rebuke, that they had just lost the Bowl, that they had given it up for...what? But they wouldn't just ignore a cry for help, especially when the Bowl would mean no other fizzgigs were likely to respond. The forest passed in a blur no less intense than during the Bowl. They aimed toward the cries, which were coming faster now. A nebrie. Wild, from the sounds of it, or else let loose to breed. The podlings kept them for milk, but not forcefully. The nebrie used the podlings just as much for protection and care, but during mating and birthing the nebrie ventured out into the forests themselves. Which made them vulnerable to predators.

" _Keep her quiet_!" a rasping voice raged. A voice Mat hadn't expected to hear in the forest. A skeksis voice. "The young might never surface if she keeps screaming like that, and then we'll have to explain to the others why I couldn't return with _fresh_ nebrie for our banquet."

Mat didn't slow. Through the speed they could see the skeksis, the nebrie mother netted, and two gelflings who looked to be uncomfortable servants.

"We're _trying_ , skekAyuk, "but how exactly are we supposed to silence a beast so large?"

"Kill her, for all I care," the skeksis responded. "Her meat is inferior anyway. It's the infant that we're after. The tender flesh, the delectable organs." He seemed to be salivating.

Conflict ran lightning-quick through Mat's mind. The could imagine the other fizzgigs, set to celebrate another year of endless bounty in the forest. What was this to them? A nebrie caught, killed, devoured. But only one out of an endless number. Not enough to change anything. Not really. Best to let it go, to watch out for your own fur.

But this didn't feel like more of the same cycle of life and death. Looking at the skeksis there, with its vile plumage and cackling voice, it looked anything but natural. It was change given shape. An end to the endless.

Mat didn't wait for the gelflings to carry out the orders. They launched themself, coming through the trees and using a small mound to bounce into the air. They saw the surprised whites of the skeksis' eyes as they unfurled and opened their mouth wide, catching them directly in the shoulder.

The skeksis screamed, recoiling, flailing in his attempt to escape, but Mat dug their rows of teeth into the flesh, which tasted like biting through a brick of butter.

The gelflings erupted in activity.

"Ahhhh!" the skeksis screamed. "Get it off of me! Get it off!"

Mat bit down harder, felt the flesh give, then released, was flung wide into the trees before the gelflings could grab them. Mat didn't pause, though. They used the momentum to roll back around, circling the group and rushing in again, this time biting the skeksis on the calf. A new scream, and the gelflings turned again, but not fast enough to catch Mat, who sped into the foliage again.

"Destroy that wretched creature!" skekAyuk screamed. "And curse skekMal for suggesting I needed to participate in this ridiculous hunt!"

Mat easily rolled around the bumbling gelflings, who seemed about as used to the forest as the skeksis. They crashed through the brush, giving Mat plenty of cover to roll around, this time to the netted nebrie. They stopped short when they found that the net had already been chewed free, and that nebrie was slipping into the water of the nearby pond, its infants surfacing to catch a breath before all of them dove to safety.

Dak flashed a toothy grin.

"You want to finish them off?" they asked, and Mat couldn't help but laugh.

"Over there! Oh, the nebrie! It's getting away, you fools! Our dinner!" Ayuk had collapsed, but was still crowing orders as if he was in charge of the situation.

Mat and Dak exchanged a glance, and then sped off into the forest. With the nebrie free and the skeksis injured, it was unlikely that their hunt would continue. And despite how tempting it was to press the fight, Mat suspected neither of them really wanted to attack the hapless gelflings, regardless of how in the wrong they were, following skeksis commands.

And anyway, there was still a celebration to take part in, even if Mat and Dak had been disqualified. They returned to the rolling mass of fizzgigs surrounding the finish line. Back on the Launching Tree platform, Drog was crowning Toph with the ceremonial wreath of droolberry vine. Bets were being paid off, and winners were already greedily gorging on their prizes. Another Great Bowl concluded, just as they had been done since time out of memory.

"You really think that change is coming?" Dak asked, the two of them still held back a bit from the reveling crowds.

Mat closed their eyes. There were rumors that spread like fire through the forest. Rumors of war. Of skeksis hunters Of slavery and genocide. Rumors that the podlings ignored. That the fizzgigs ignored despite the tendriling smoke of truth they could see. The incursions. The disappearances. The things no natural phenomenon could explain. If they continued to ignore it, would they find the forest ablaze around them, raging in a way no disbelief or denial could quench?

"Change is here," Mat said. There was no use avoiding it. But...they remembered the skeksis defeated, the nebrie freed. Maybe they could still meet this change. Fight it.

"What do we do?" Dak asked.

Mat inhaled deeply, then opened their eyes and looked out at the rolling fizzgigs, jubilant and joyous and, for the moment at least, free.

"For now...we celebrate." They'd won a victory, after all. And what use was victory if they couldn't celebrate it? "Tomorrow...tomorrow we see what else we can do."

And together they rolled forward into the welcoming bump and roll of the crowd. And in Mat's heart they resolved to protect their people, knowing that endless was not a passive state but an active struggle. A promise, to all fizzgigs and podlings and nebries to come. A promise to fight for what was right.

**Author's Note:**

> written for a holiday exchange. I did some research and watched the movie but have never seen the show.


End file.
